Brute Spring Neighbors

Here, in the woods, spring means new neighbors - not really new, just those same old seasonal abutters that seem as fresh as new arrivals every year, since their presence embodies the very vitality that you feel in the air, as if the elastic tension of the crisp morning mist precipitated into these little droplets of life whose sole purposes are to convey the message of change and rebirth, and all without uttering a single word.

Even now, in the chill midnight air, hundreds of peepers are puncturing the silence and filling the vacuous hollow of my pond with their calls. They seem to abide by the logistical law, a few beginning the chorus, then followed by the remainder gradually and increasingly joining in until they have reached their crescendo, a harmonious din that attains proportions equivalent to the great Om...and then all is suddenly silent, as if they were all struck dumb simultaneously by the transcendent quality of their collective peeps. Even the wood frogs, the hardiest of our native frogs, who can be seen hopping about in frigid January rainstorms, seem to hush themselves for this concert. I too am hushed, pausing at the keyboard, for even that soft pit-a-pat-a-clack-a is a racket by comparison.

By day, the brimming waters of the pond have again proven to be a blue jewel on the map to a number of waterfowl. The mallards are a daily presence now, and surely one pair will ultimately nest soon enough. I've also spotted two pairs of wood ducks, after being informed of their arrival by their alarming high-pitched landing cry, which seems a muted scream of terror prior to impact. They are by far a more timid species - which I suppose comes with their superior and elegant beauty - such that even a single visitor to the pond's edge during their trial period will cause them to flee to remoter waters for their nesting. Usually a string of dismal days will keep them around, since showers seem to keep the sun-happy fools indoors, who would otherwise be destroying the peaceful haven just by their clumsy human presence.

Just three weeks ago, foxes were crossing the ice on the pond in this same midnight darkness, and the frogs were sleeping in their warm muddy burrows. Nature flips a switch and the laws of the living spring back into motion.